


Baby Hatch

by orphan_account



Category: Hazbin Hotel (Web Series)
Genre: Adoption, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abandonment, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, References to Drugs, Unconventional Families, in which everyone ends up adopting a demon baby, mostly alastor, shoutout to my pals in the discord server where i rambled about this, this is based on something i read on the wiki, this is mostly alastor's fault
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:15:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21612871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The members of Hazbin Hotel end up with two surprises that bring their world to a momentary standstill. One—there’s a baby on the hotel’s doorstep. Two—Alastor offers to take care of it.Or, the story where Alastor adopts a child entirely on accident.
Relationships: Alastor (Hazbin Hotel) & Original Character(s), Angel Dust & Original Character(s), Charlie Magne & Everyone, Charlie Magne & Original Character(s), Husk (Hazbin Hotel) & Original Character(s), Niffty (Hazbin Hotel) & Original Character(s), Vaggie (Hazbin Hotel) & Original Character(s)
Comments: 32
Kudos: 224





	1. An Obligation

There’s a baby at the front door.

Not a demon posing as a child. No, no, Charlie had made sure of that; inspecting the tiny child for any given “tells” that would reveal the potential fake. Regretfully, she’d even slipped into her more demonic persona to see if she could startle them into dropping the act, only for the child to start screaming and crying in their tattered cradle.

No, this horned, bundled-up, freckled babe is just that—a child. Hell-born, miserable, and already left to fend for itself in a cruel, uncaring world. No notice, no warning—not even a letter of explanation. Just tossed into her and the other hotel members’ lives on a whim.

Charlie holds her breath, her hands twisting the fabric of her shirt. Slowly, shaking from head to toe and her hair standing on end, she bends down, scooping up the child into her arms and cradling it to her chest.

“Hey, Charlie-cakes, close the door!” She hears a shout from the lobby—Angel Dust, judging by the sound of the voice—that causes her to startle, the princess looking over her shoulder like a deer caught in headlights. “You’re letting in a draft!”

“Uh, yeah, sure thing.” She takes a step back into the hotel and does so, rocking the baby gently in her arms.

She thinks that’s the end of that until she hears footsteps from behind, approaching her. She tenses and closes her eyes, preparing for the trouble that’s about to come.

“What’s up, princess?” Angel asks, letting out a snort. She can feel his eyes studying her, looking for the source of her sudden reserved nature. “You seem startled about somethin’. Some jerkoff show up lookin’ for trouble again?”

_Oh, if only,_ Charlie thinks. _At least that’s something I’m familiar with_. “Ha, not…exactly,” she sighs.

Angel hesitates, and she feels a hand land on her shoulder, the spider’s tone laced with concern no matter how hard he tries to pass it off as a joke. “Trouble of ’nother kind, then?”

“Well…” Charlie chuckles nervously, slowly turning around to face the other, revealing the child currently dozing against her chest. She gives Angel a sheepish smile and twists her hair with her finger, met with an expression so conflicted and indescribable she’s not sure whether to snap Angel out of it or bolt. Or both.

Angel looks between her and the kid, the hair on the top of his head noticeably twitching when the baby lets out an ear-piercing wail. “Fuck.”

“…Why the fuck d’ya have a kid?”

“I don’t know! They were just there!”

“Well, put it back!”

“I’m not going to just leave a baby out on the street, Husk!”

“Why not? It’s not like it’s our problem.”

“Husk, shut up! Charlie, lower your voice; you’re upsetting it more.”

The small group of has-beens sit in the lobby, hovering over the sniffling demon lying between them. After Charlie and Angel’s initial shock, Charlie had him gather up the rest of their friends for a meeting to see what should be done about the babe (if anything at all). Well, _almost_ everyone, save for Alastor, the Radio Demon himself; off doing heaven knows what while free from Charlie’s watchful eye, no doubt getting into whatever trouble he can get away with without tarnishing the Hotel’s reputation.

Which she thinks is unfortunate, given that out of everyone else here, he’d probably know what to do. Hell, he’d probably be a lot calmer than she is right now.

Unsurprisingly, the others had been skeptical when Angel had told them about what happened up until they saw the kid for themselves, doing more gawking than talking as Vaggie tried to calm the small demon down (while losing a few hairs along the way, pulling on her hair absently with how much her stress levels had sky-rocketed).

Husk, sporting a bag of ice on his head and glaring at everyone else in the room with bloodshot eyes, glared down at the kid, chin in his hands as he groans. “I don’t get what th’ big deal is!” he snaps, waving a hand in the air and narrowly missing Niffty’s face. “Just give the little brat back to their mom so we can move on!”

“Woulda done that already if we knew who the parents were, hot-stuff,” Angel quips. Pinching the bridge of his nose (or where it would have been if not for his spider form), he adds, “’Sides, Charlie said the kid was left at the front door. Sounds more like a case of abandonment t’ me.”

“Don’t blame ’em with how much this kid’s screaming,” Husk grumbles into his hands.

“Shut up! Seriously, both of you! Your bickering isn’t helping shit!” Vaggie snaps, quieting down only when the baby lets out another loud cry. “Sh—no, no, hey, lil’ one, don’t do that, shhh—”

“So, what are we going to do?” Niffty asks, leaning forward. Her single eye shines and her pupil shrinks, reflecting the baby’s image back for the world to see. Her smile widens. “I haven’t been around a baby in ages!”

Charlie hears Husk grumble something along the lines of “coulda gone longer.”

“Whatever we’re gonna do,” Angel says, pointing in the kid’s direction, “the lil’ gremlin needs a bath. I can smell ’em from here.”

He had a point, of course; though Charlie had done her best to ignore it, the babe absolutely _reeked_. Not just in a way that suggested they hadn’t been washed in days; no, there’s another scent there, something that reeked of murder and sin that makes Charlie’s nose wrinkle and her insides itch. Not only that, but the tatters wrapped around their body are absolutely filthy, covered in dirt and blood (none of it being the kid’s, thank Christ) and whatever else. The reddish tint of their skin looks paler than what would be normal for an imp (not that she’s sure it’s an imp, but that’s the closest guess she has right now) and their horns hum almost loud enough to drown out the baby’s cries, glowing a brilliant red much like the freckles speckled across their skin.

And even though Charlie didn’t know a damn thing when it came to children, she knew enough that this is _not_ normal for a healthy child.

Damn, is this kid’s parents lucky. If she could get her hands on them…well, she likes to think she’d keep herself in check, but she honestly has no clue what she would do.

The thought scares her.

“…I could give them a bath!” Niffty says with a squeal, her voice snapping Charlie out of her thoughts. “Oh, but I don’t have any children’s clothes. And I wouldn’t dare put them back into… _that_ , they’d need something proper! Might make them feel better too—hm, I wonder if I could find any shops open at this hour—”

“At the moment, I’d like to just get them to stop crying,” Vaggie cuts in. She groans, running a hand down her face. “I’m getting a migraine—Charlie, do you know anything that babies like?”

Charlie pauses, frowning in thought, “Uh—”

“I can get it to shut up,” Husk mutters suddenly, reaching out. “Give’t here.”

Vaggie immediately pulls the baby into her arms, “Back off, shithead—”

“Guys—”

“If you don’t get that kid to quit blattin’, I will! Now either you shut it up or I do!”

Panic slips into Charie’s voice as she watches her girlfriend and Husk all but break out into an all-out fight, “Guys, hey, stop it!”

“Then tell him to back off— _hey_!”

Husk manages to grab the kid, the feathers of his wings ruffled as he shakes the kid roughly, earning another shriek. “Alright, you little shit—”

Two gloved hands reach out and snatch the child by the armpits, tearing the crying babe from Husk’s claws and lifting them away before the cat could react, “Wh—”

“So _this_ is what all the noise is about!” Alastor’s usual cheery, static tone fills the air, the gentle crackle of a radio following suit. Everyone else in the room grows still, eyes widening as they fix on the overlord, who looks over the babe with a quick rake of his eyes. “Well, hello there, little darlin’! Quite the troublemaker already, aren’t you?”

Immediately, Charlie opens her mouth to speak, to stop the Radio Demon in his tracks before he does something terrible. The last thing she wants is for the sponsor of her hotel to bring harm to an innocent, a child no less.

But, to her surprise, she watches as the radio host snaps his fingers and summons his microphone, waving it in the child’s face.

Watches, still, when the babe’s cries die down, melting into quiet giggles when they bat at the microphone, grabbing at it with tiny claws.

Feels her breath rattle against her ribcage when she sees a brilliant, genuine smile spread across Alastor’s face, eyes glowing a soft and gentle red as he looks down at the little demon curled up in his arms.

Holy. _Shit_.

For a moment, all that can be heard is the crackling of radio static and Alastor humming a quiet tune under his breath, the distant sound of demons screaming and bells tolling ringing out somewhere in Hell.

Then, with a flat tone of voice, Vaggie breaks the silence, spitting out, “ _What_.”

Alastor glances up at her, his smile stretching into its usual sharp smugness. “Whatever do you mean, ‘what?’” he asks, feigning ignorance.

Vaggie’s face reddens, eye twitching. She takes a step forward, jabbing a finger into the man’s chest, ignoring the way his smile widens as she says, “Don’t give me that shit, asshole! The hell are you trying to pull?”

Alastor straightens, adjusting the babe in his arms and messing with his monocle. “I’m afraid I still don’t know what you mean, dear. I merely saw a fussy child being tossed about and thought I’d offer a hand!” His smile widens, his eyebrows arched, “or would you rather the young boy cry himself hoarse?”

Vaggie glares.

“Wait, the kid’s a boy?” Angel asks. “How could you tell?”

The Radio Demon’s hair bristles. Holding the child so that his face is exposed, he drags a finger along his horns, saying, “The colors here gave it away, my good fellow! Brighter horns indicate male offspring. ’Course, they tend to darken with age, but it’s not like I’ve ever kept them long enough to see th—”

“You’ve tended to children before?” Charlie cuts in, eyes blowing wide.

She expects him to scold her for interrupting him, but instead, Alastor just laughs, giving her head a small pat. “Why, of course, dear!” he proclaims with a grin. “I’ve housed a number of orphans in my time, both while alive and in the afterlife! Usually younger ones, like this one here. Helps give the appearance of a respectable man, you see.”

Charlie’s heart sinks at that last remark, but she decides to ignore the sinister twist of the other demon’s words, leaning forward. “That’s…really nice of you, Al,” she says after some thought, smiling at him. “To help kids, I mean. I’m sure they appreciate that.”

She could almost imagine it—Alastor finding a child in need and taking them in, offering them protection, guidance. Maybe even affection, though that’s probably pushing the dream a bit far. Still, it’s a comforting thought, knowing that under the persona he puts on for the residents of Hell lies someone she has yet to fully meet. Someone worth saving.

A strange look crosses Alastor’s face, the other demon eyeing her. He shrugs. “Don’t care much about doing the right thing, if that’s what you’re thinking. It just happens to be one of those obligations I feel I must follow—and the moment the child can speak and think for itself, that obligation no longer applies.”

Vaggie crosses her arms. “So, what you’re saying is, basically—you don’t actually give a fuck.”

“Precisely!”

Charlie deflated. Well, it was a nice thought, anyway. “Well, we can’t leave him on his own,” she says, an air of finality in her words. “If his parents really don’t want him, I doubt anyone else would take him in.”

“I had a feeling you would say as much, my dear,” Alastor says. With a hum and a quick glance down to the child in his arms, he nods, dismissing his microphone and rocking back on his heels. “Yes, I suppose it can’t be helped! He’ll just have to stay with us for now!”

“Oh, shit,” Husk facepalms, icepack slipping from his head and onto the floor, spilling ice everywhere.

“Ah!” Niffty’s quick to clean up the mess, momentarily forgetting the matter at hand. “Husk!”

“I didn’t sign up for this shit.”

Radio interference buzzes around Alastor, slowly filling the room, “I’m afraid you did, my old friend! A deal’s a deal, is it not?”

Husk grimaces. Climbing onto his feet, he makes his way to the bar, scratching underneath his chin and grumbling about “bein’ too sober for this.”

Angel Dust shares a silent look with Charlie and Vaggie, giving a vague nod in Alastor’s direction as if to say “this ain’t my problem, good luck” before following after Husk, the stress of the situation visibly washing away from him as he walks off.

Which leaves Charlie and Vaggie. Alone.

_With the Radio Demon and a tiny demon babe resting in his arms._

Vaggie’s eyes narrow, looking between Alastor and the kid, before she huffs, crossing her arms. “I don’t know what you’re planning, but I swear, if you’re gonna—I don’t know, maim the kid, or throw ’em into your next meal, you’ve got another thing comin’—”

“I don’t eat children.”

Vaggie blinks. She glares up at him from her spot on the floor, looking as though she didn’t hear him right, “What?”

Alastor’s eyes glow a brighter red, his smile wide yet constrained, as though he were struggling to keep it in position. Leaning forward, lowering his voice for only Vaggie and Charlie to hear, he says in a low, cold tone, “I have never harmed a child. _Ever_. Nor do I plan to—and I would suggest, for future reference, to refrain from implying as such.” He tilts his head, smile threatening to split his face in two. “Clear?”

White noise rings in their ears. Vaggie doesn’t let up her glare, though she does bow her head, scowling at her feet. “Whatever,” she grumbles finally, ducking her head and taking her leave.

Charlie watches her go, arms wrapped around herself and teeth chewing on her bottom lip. She hesitates, looking at Alastor when she sees him turn to leave. “Hey, Al?”

He pauses, turning to look at her from over his shoulder, his smile back to normal. Well, as normal as a smile gets when it comes to Alastor, anyway. “Yes?” he asks.

“Thanks. For, uh…handling this well. Or, uh, better. I dunno what I would do without you around.”

She swears she sees an amused glint in his eye, though one that’s matched with a real smile that causes her to shiver. “Don’t thank me yet, dear. After all—”

Charlie gasps when she suddenly feels a weight in her arms, looking down to find the sleeping babe curled up against her chest. Despite the fact that she now stands alone in the lobby save for the child in her arms, she feels a tickle run down her spine as a voice whispers against her ear, the ghosting of lips felt against her head as Alastor’s voice echoes somewhere else in the hotel.

“ _The fun has just begun_.”


	2. A Name

It’s been three months and the new addition to the hotel still doesn’t have a name.

Well, perhaps that’s not entirely true. Now that Charlie thinks about it, the little babe was collecting quite the number of nicknames, both from staff and patrons alike. Most settle on referring to him as “kid” or “the boy,” “hell-spawn” and “dirty imp” thrown around on occasion from the more brash and bold passersby. Husk calls the child “trouble” and the rare “brat” when he’s drunk off his ass and too tired to give a shit about the glares thrown his way; Angel prefers the nicknames “squirt,” “toots,” and—God forbid— _angel_ (the latter when Alastor isn’t around, given how the other had reacted; it took over a week for Angel’s arm to grow back and for Alastor’s ever-present static to quiet down to its usual gentle hum); for Niffty, “little one;” Vaggie avoiding the child whenever she can, though in private she’ll slip in “honey” and “sweetie.” Charlie herself could only think to call him what he was; nothing but a baby imp, a little devil, and—only to herself—a real killer-in-the-making, considering who was taking care of the poor thing (as much as the thought upset her).

But, with all their attempts and trials, nothing seemed to stick. Nothing anyone put out there struck her as “name-worthy,” let alone anything that seemed to fit the tiny imp.

Still, she thinks with a sigh, her reflection’s expression hardening in the mirror as she pulls her hair back into a ponytail—if he’s going to stay, and stay for _good_ , he’ll need a name.

Now she just needs to figure out how the ever-loving fuck they’re going to pick one out.

“Hey, Charlie,” she hears Vaggie call out from the lobby, the princess turning to peek out of the bathroom to find her girlfriend standing out in the hallway, her hair a mess and eye ringed red. “Alastor called. Said that a couple’a other overlords are curious about the hotel and will be tied up for a few more hours, so he won’t be able to deal with the kid until later.”

Charlie groans. Ah, yes, she had almost forgotten—with all the recent attention the hotel’s received after being announced and broadcasted on Alastor’s radio station adding onto the late nights spent watching over the kid, the employees at the hotel were worse for wear and—to put it mildly—exhausted. Busy with work, caring for a child and babysitting the more troublesome visitors of the hotel had everyone at their wits end, none more-so than Charlie herself.

And with Alastor caught up with his other territories and keeping them all out of harm’s way, she couldn’t even be mad that he’d dumped the kid on her.

With a thin stretch of her lips, Charlie gives her girlfriend a nod, saying, “That’s fine, Vaggie. Did he say how the whole sponsorship thing was going?”

Vaggie shrugs, glancing over her shoulder. Charlie bites back a chuckle when she sees the other pinch the bridge of her nose. _Can she be any more adorable?_ “He was vague as hell about it, but I think it’s going alright. More people walking through the doors, anyway.”

Another nod. Pausing, Charlie shoots a glance over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes when she sees a shadow move in the corner of her vision. _Creep_. “Right…anyways, where’s the baby now? Not alone, I hope.”

“Oh, please, you know me better than to just leave some kid on their own,” Vaggie snorts. Hesitating, her gaze locked on the ceiling, she says, “He’s with Angel right now. I’ll give it to that asshole, he’s at least good at taking care of children. Daresay he even likes it.”

Charlie hums. _That makes sense…Angel_ does _come from a large family, right?_ “Well, I better go check in on them,” she decides, smiling. “Never know what kind of trouble Angel can get into when he’s left to his own devices.”

“Oh, you don’t have to tell me twice.”

That earns a laugh. Bouncing on her heels, Charlie leans forward and pecks the other girl on the cheek, grinning when Vaggie’s face reddens and looks away. “Get some rest,” she whispers into her hair, wrapping her arms around her and squeezing tight. “You deserve it.”

“Oh, and you don’t, huh?” Vaggie shoots back with a playful glare, though her words are laced with a yawn, her shoulders slumped as though she carries the whole world on her shoulders.

“I could always join you later. But for now, duty calls.” Then, as an afterthought, she boops the other on the nose, “Now, sleep. That’s an order.”

Vaggie laughs, giving her a soft smile. She opens her mouth, a thought lingering on her lips, but before she can say it, Charlie lets the door of the bathroom slip closed, the princess leaning against it and pressing the back of her head against the wooden door. Smile immediately gone, thoughts trailing elsewhere—her very soul constricting with worry.

_Other overlords are curious about the hotel._

She had known this, of course. After all, the hotel’s opening had been announced on live television, broadcasted throughout all of Hell—and with Alastor’s radio station, it only made sense that some of the big-shots of Hell were listening in, too. She knows, she suspects—and yet, the thought makes her stomach twist and a foul taste crawl across her tongue.

It’s not just Alastor.

They _all_ know.

And she doubts that the other overlords are as accepting of her plans as the radio talk-show host is.

 _Your fault_ , her mind reminds her, unwanted, uncensored, indifferent, almost relishing in her anxiety. _What did you think was going to happen? Did you really think it would all be sunshine and rainbows? Of course there would be trouble. Of course you’re a target._

_Of course there are people waiting and watching to see you fail._

She glances back at her reflection and runs a hand down her face, another sigh escaping her. “What am I going to do,” she groans. _Is there even anything I can do?_

Silence. Not that she expects an answer.

Though, when she looks back up, bags visible underneath her eyes, she notices something moving out of the corner of her eye and turns, watching a shadow retreat out the nearest window. She blinks and walks over to where it stood last, spotting something tucked between freshly folded towels before picking it up and looking it over.

A small booklet rests between her fingertips, engraved with red antlers on the cover and buzzing with a faint hum of energy that set her teeth on edge. Upon further inspection, she realizes it smells of cigarette smoke and blood, the scent causing her to shudder and hold it away from her. Just holding it makes her skin crawl.

_What…? When did this get here?_

_…Actually, I should probably ask_ what _it is, not_ why _it is._

Carefully, she turns the item over in her hands, noticing cursive letters scratched into the booklet’s surface. Quietly, she reads it over, her face lighting up when she finished. A smile crawls up her face as she holds it closer to her chest.

Oh. _Oh_.

Well, this could work. At least she could get _this_ out of the way before Alastor returned.

Now all she had to do was find Angel.

Each tenant of the hotel had a certain set of rules when it came to approaching them in their rooms. Angel, being the first to stay at the hotel, had the least—in fact, he only had the one, and that was that you knocked before entering his room. Not only for his own well-being but for the sanity of whoever checked on him, what with what he did for a living.

But, with the knowledge that Angel currently had a watchful eye on a child, Charlie didn’t think that the rule would be necessary this one time, knowing there was no possible way he could be up to no good with a baby around.

Or so she thinks, until she turns the doorknob and pushes the door open, stepping inside.

“Hey, Angel, I know I shouldn’t be barging in like this, but I wanted to talk ab—oh my fucking _God_ , what are you _doing_?”

Angel yelps—actually _yelps_ —and jumps at the sound of her voice, whipping around with wide, irritated eyes. He stands in the middle of his room with clothes thrown about and dresser drawers hanging open, dressed in one of his flashier dresses, skirt flared out and ends ruffled about with a slit running down the side, splotches of color scattered throughout. His face is done up with too much mascara and a hint of blush, hot pink gloves pulled up to his elbows and adorning thigh-high boots that she’s almost positive he couldn’t afford unless his (now-ex) pimp bought them for him. He looks between her and the kid, blinking at her between thick eyelashes and with his teeth bared.

Ah, yes, but that’s the best part: the fact that the kid currently under his care _is strung up hanging from the ceiling, tangled in Angel’s web,_ dolled up in makeup and wearing too many clothes to be even remotely comfortable.

“Uh,” Angel coughs out, glaring in Charlie’s direction, “you could’a knocked, bitch.”

Charlie rushes over and tears the child free of the webbing, pressing him close to her chest. “What the _fuck_ , Angel?” she snaps, glaring at the spider.

Angel huffs, flicking his hair and crossing a set of his arms. “What?” he all but whines back, rocking back on his heels and eyeing her up and down. He points at the kid, drawling out, “It’s just a little dress-up. No harm done.”

“You hung him up from the ceiling!”

“Eh. He seemed to enjoy it. Kids are weird like that, Charlie-cakes—they like weird shit.”

As if on cue, the boy giggles, reaching his arms out at Angel and making grabby hands.

A soft smile flickers on Angel’s face before he snuffs _that_ particular feeling out before it can grow any more, reaching forward and taking him from Charlie’s arms and shooting her a shit-eating grin. “See? He likes me.”

“I—you—that still doesn’t excuse it and you know it!”

She pouts when he laughs, the spider giving her a pat on the head. “You’re funny,” he notes, grin widening when she flips him off. Adjusting the child in his arms, he asks, “What’d you want, anyway? I was obviously in the middle of something.”

Her face reddens, but at his question, she blinks, remembering why she’d come here in the first place. “Oh!” She stuffs her hand into her pocket and pulls out the booklet, holding it out for him to look it over. “Al left me this.”

Angel squints at the fine, cursive script, frowning. “I don’t get it,” he mutters out, looking up at her with his eyebrows raised.

“It’s a book full of names!”

“…Yeah?”

“Yeah!” she hesitates, smile faltering at his growing confusion. “…You know, for the, uh…” she gestures to the babe in his arms.

Angel follows her gaze. “…Oh, yeah. I guess the kiddo _does_ need somethin’ that’s not just ‘royal-pain-in-the-ass,’ huh?”

“ _Angel_ —”

“Relax, toots, I’m just fuckin’ with you. Stop lookin’ at me like you shoved a dildo up your ass.” Angel pauses, expression softening as he glances down at the little demon. “Still, don’t see why he’d leave the naming up to _us_. It’s technically _his_ kid we’re looking after.”

“You do realize if you ever say that around him, he’ll find any way he can to get his hands on an angel’s spear and murder your dumbass, right?”

“Hence why I’m sayin’ it now when he _isn’t_ here. And my point still stands—it’s fuckin’ weird of him. _He’s_ the one who took in the kid—why would he let us give it a name? He always comes off as someone who always wants to be the one in control, so—I’unno, just feels off.”

Charlie shrugs. It’s true that she doesn’t understand it either, but if she’s honest, there’s many things about Alastor she doesn’t understand. Both because she doesn’t want to know and because he hides anything she _does_ want to know. This just happened to be one of his many mysteries, and she isn’t about to bother him about it, doesn’t need to question it. “Well, he _did_ leave us a list. Maybe he just needs help deciding.”

Angel quirks an eyebrow at that.

“…What?”

“You really peg Smiles as someone who doesn’t plan five steps ahead of everybody else?”

Charlie huffs. Hesitates. Considers it. “…Well, maybe with most things, but it’s not like any of us prepared for a kid.” 

Silence. Angel takes another moment staring at her, really looking at her, before he sighs, taking a seat on his bed and crossing his legs, rocking the babe gently in his arms. He rolls his eyes, waving a hand in the air. “Alright. Start listing them off, princess.”

Charlie lets out a nervous laugh. “Not yet,” she says, glancing over her shoulder.

Angel narrows his eyes, “What d’ya mean, not yet? _You’re_ the one who burst into my room uninvited.”

“What—oh. That was just a lapse in judgment—but no, I was just inviting you down to the lobby, actually.” She grins at him. “I was thinking we could _all_ choose the name! Together! You know, like a family—Angel?”

She watches as the spider curls up on his bed and pulls his cover over his head, hearing a muffled groan from underneath the blanket as he lifts a hand to flip her off.

Charlie grins, covering her mouth to keep herself from chuckling. _Well_ , she thinks to herself, _I didn’t hear a no._

Twenty minutes later, she drags Angel from his room, baby still cradled in his arms, Charlie grinning from ear to ear and Angel chewing on his lip to keep from grinning along with her. Both ignoring the looks from other inhabitants of the hotel as they make their way to the lobby, sending a text to their friends to join them.

 _Okay_ , Charlie tells herself, mentally preparing herself in case any fights might ensue. _Let’s hope for the best._

“Seth.”

“Nah.”

“Ravana?”

“Nope.”

“Samael?”

“ _Hell_ no.”

“Ba—ew, no, next.”

The lobby breaks into a fit of giggles. They all sit in a circle, facing one another and lounging about, Charlie seated among them with the booklet held open in front of her and a fingernail dragging along the page as she reads off ideas. They’d been out it for over a half hour now, the princess rattling off names and her friends quipping in their input every so often, cracking jokes to make things more interest. For the most part, all they did was wait for Charlie’s suggestion and shoot it down, just as unsatisfied with most items on the list as she is. She had to admit, Alastor hadn’t made this easy—which, she realizes, might have been on purpose—choosing names none of them could agree on.

Oh, well. At least they’re all having fun in the process.

She watched them now, Vaggie curled up with her head resting on Charlie’s shoulder, Angel lying on his stomach with his legs crossed in the air, Niffty bouncing on her spot next to Husk who drummed his claws on the wooden floor, eyes fixed on the child currently batting at his tail (and trying to hide the smile twitching at his mouth in the process). The scene touched her heart in a way she hadn’t expected. It feels almost like home—like they’re just hanging out and having fun, with nothing to worry about and no threats hanging over their heads.

It’s…a welcome change.

“Hm…” Charlie’s tongue sticks out of her mouth slightly as she skims the page, squinting at the names staring up at her. “How about…Or—Orphos?”

Vaggie snorts, peeking over Charlie’s shoulder. “It’s Orpheus. And that shit sounds like some rich demon’s name—don’t wanna give the lil’ guy an ego _just_ yet.”

“To be fair, the kid’s doomed to get one of those, bein’ where he is,” Husk grunts out, shooting a nasty look at the person in question when he manages to catch the cat demon’s tail in his hands and pulls. Husk hisses, flicking it out of the kid’s grasp, “Don’t you _dare_.”

All the demon does is babble in response.

Charlie huffs, pouting as she stares down at the booklet in front of her. “This is harder than it should be,” she sighs, running a hand through her hair. “Who knew names could be this frustrating.”

“And dumb,” Angel adds, shrugging at Charlie’s sharp look. “Hey, I’m just sayin’, Smiles is piss-poor at choosing names. All of these suck dick—probably more than I do.”

“Please don’t say that in front of him.”

“He’ll hear worse, I’m sure.”

Charlie pinches the bridge of her nose. “…Okay, so…Helmer?”

“Ohh, that one sounds nice!” Niffty says. Then, with a quick glance to the child, she says, “Though, not overly fitting.”

Charlie does nothing but shrug. “Well…uh—”

Vaggie suddenly reaches out, picking up the booklet and pulling it into her lap.

Everyone fixes her with a look, Angel raising his eyebrows in questioning, “What’cha doin’, there?”

Vaggie takes one glance at the list and then switches on her phone, scrolling through it. She shrugs. “Looking up name meanings.”

Husk snorts. “The hell’s that gonna help?”

“Just bear with me.” She pauses, squinting at the booklet before searching something on her phone. Finally, she slides the booklet back to Charlie, pointing at one of the names. “That one.”

Charlie wrinkles her nose. “Hartley?” she reads out loud.

Husk chokes and almost falls onto his back, stopping short only when the baby hurries behind him and leans against his back. Niffty looks over at him questioningly, her eyebrow furrowed as she thinks the name over, trying to figure out why such a simple name would cause a reaction like that.

Angel seems just as perplexed, his chin in his hands as he says, “Sounds lame. What’s the big deal ’bout it?”

Charlie’s eyes seem to ask a similar question, for one look from Vaggie has the moth demon sighing, handing her phone over for the princess to read. It takes Charlie a moment to recollect herself, a smile splitting across her face as she shoots her girlfriend a downright devilish look. There’s a tremor of a laugh in her voice as she says, “he put down a name that literally means ‘stag meadow?’”

The room almost immediately bursts into laughter—specifically, Angel’s. The spider hides his face in his hands and wheezes, his other set of arms wrapped around his stomach as he doubles over, cackling loud enough to startle a few lingering souls outside of the hotel.

Vaggie can’t help the smile that crosses her face, hiding it behind her hair. “Hey, I didn’t write it down, he did. And if it’s there, he must be fine with the kid being called it, right? Don’t see why he’d choose something he didn’t like.”

Angel’s words come out as a breathy laugh, “I can’t—that motherfucker, oh my God—of course he’d add a name that relates to fucking deer, I fucking c—ow, my ribs—”

Niffty gasps, joining in on Angel’s giggling-fit. “Ohh, I get it! Because Alastor is part-deer! That’s funny!”

“He ain’t ever gonna hear the end of this,” they all hear Husk grumble under his breath, shaking his head. He bristles when he feels something climb onto his back, growling when a tiny, horned face peeks from behind his ears. “Get off, you lil’ brat.”

All that earns him is a black, skinny tongue being stuck out in his direction, the older demon shaking with the effort to keep from mauling the kid on the spot as the child leans into his fur, hiding his face in his hands. And oh, God, they all realize a second later with genuine surprise—Husk purrs.

And as they all laugh, the booklet between them all mysteriously vanishes, going up in smoke as the gentle hum of a radio can be heard some amount of floors above their heads. Hell, if you asked the princess herself, she might’ve told you she heard another voice join in on the laughter, but she preferred her head where it was, thank you kindly.

Charlie smiles, looking to the child—Hartley—with a soft smile on her face. Leaning forward, her hands on her knees, she says softly, “Well, Hartley—welcome to the Hazbin Hotel.” 

Back in his office, Alastor glances over his booklet of names, humming to himself and sipping on a glass of wine—or, well, it was more blood than it was wine, but pretending otherwise made the little princess happy and off his ass, so that’s what he would continue to tell her. He taps his foot to the beat of gentle jazz playing behind his head, his eyes glowing slightly as they scan the page, his fingers drumming against his desk.

Of course, they had chosen exactly the name he’d wanted. They’re all simple in that way; tell a good joke and they’ll run with it, ignoring whatever devils rest within the details. Though he could have thrown in a more respectable name, he knows that there would have been room for error, and he couldn’t have that. Not with something like this.

No, he couldn’t have that at all, he thinks, scratching the name “Hartley” out of the booklet before picking up his microphone. He flicks a finger in the air, adjusting his station before finding the right frequency, clearing his throat before speaking. “Hello, hello! Am I coming through alright?”

Another voice—a feminine one, lighter, airy, _powerful_ in a way that makes his hair stand on end—chuckles on the other end of the radio, “Why, hello, Alastor. It’s been some time since we’ve spoken last.”

“Has it?” the demon hums to himself, his smile widening slightly at the suggestion as he pretends to check a pocket watch he doesn’t own. “My, I suppose it has! A few decades since we last heard from one another, if I remember correctly.”

“Indeed.” A pause. The woman on the other end hums, her voice appearing louder as she leans into her speaker, “I take it my daughter is well?”

“Marvelous as always!” Alastor leans back in his chair, setting his glass of wine aside. “Speaking of—I have some paperwork I’m sending your way! I hope it’s not too much trouble, though I think you’ll find it to be a pressing issue, at least in terms of her safety.”

“You say that as though you care,” Lilith murmurs with a bored tone.

“Oh, don’t confuse hunger for attraction, my dear, it’s positively criminal of you.” Alastor finds himself shaking his head, sighing. “No, I merely am doing my part as a business partner of this hotel!”

“I still can’t believe someone such as yourself is playing into my girl’s fantasies. You know as much as I do that it’s nothing but a dream.”

“Perhaps,” Alastor agrees. “Though, it is certainly something new to do around here, and I am nothing if not a man of all trades.”

“…Why are you calling me, Alastor?”

His eyes glow brighter, smile stretching farther up his face as he glances back at the open booklet in front of him. “Well, given that I’m a bit understaffed here, I hoped you would be able to pull yourself away from your work to, ah…how do I put this…” he thinks it over, wracking his brain before musing with a grin, “spare some royal services?”

Silence from the other end. “…And why, pray tell, would I do that?”

“Well, I suppose it’s the same reason I am currently stuck watching over a miserable, sniveling imp child— _obligations_. Or, in this case, the parental kind.” Alastor snaps his fingers, the booklet disappearing immediately, his eyes filling with static as he sends it off. “You’ll receive the names of the people targeting the hotel and your daughter soon enough. I would take care of it myself, but I am a very busy man with not nearly as many connections as you, so you can see why I’d be troubled enough to reach you.”

“How charming of you,” Lilith mutters.

Alastor rolls his eyes, much like how he imagines the queen of Hell to be doing herself right about now. “But of course, dear! Us southern boys are quite known for our charm, after all.”

“Hm. Yes, well, I suppose you _are_ known for that—among other things.” He hears a sigh through his speakers, his eyes glinting in the dim lighting of his office as he hears her say, “Is that all you wanted of me?”

“Oh, there is always more that I want, dear,” he responds immediately. “But that is not something you can give me, nor your husband. Just consider this a, ah…a _favor_ , I suppose. An action made in the name of common interests.”

He can hear the smile in her voice, “Of course.”

Alastor takes another sip of his wine, allowing the room to fall silent. Then, a new energy in his voice, he says, “Well, that is all for now, darling. Do take care of yourself, won’t you, Lilith?”

“I shall.”

He goes to flick off the channel.

“And Alastor?”

He freezes mid-snap, his smile freezing as his eyes roll in his head to glare at the radio. “Yes?”

Lilith’s voice grows cold, words drilling into his head whether he wants them to or not. And oh, does he prefer that she didn’t do this to him, not after he’d been _oh so kind_ as to do this for her and her family.

“Do take care of my daughter for me. If not for your own selfish gain, then as an obligation to your… _agreement_ with her.”

Alastor’s hand shakes with the urge to throw the radio at the wall, resisting if only to avoid showing any weakness. “…Goodbye, Lilith.”

“Goodbye, Alastor.”

_Click!_

Alastor leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling with his arms folded in his lap, his microphone leaning against his desk. His smile falls off his face.

“Now, my dear,” he says in a low voice, the room aglow with red light as shadows crawl about the room, always waiting, always craving, always hungry for something more. Ready to devour at a moment’s notice—even him, if the moment so presented itself. “Why would you go on and say something as ridiculous as _that_?”

Still, the words weigh down on his conscious, and Alastor adjusts the station once more to soft jazz, listening to the soft sounds of the radio as he turns his attention back to the laughter down in the lobby, closing his eyes and sighing.

It’s his own fault, he tells himself as he allows himself to relax, arms crossed over his chest as sleep starts to claim his wary mind. The sound of heartbeats down below lulls him further and further down, some more familiar than others, knowing the ones contracted to him as though they were his own and recognizing the others almost just as well, especially the princess’. And oh, that new one, the small one—Hartley, now, they call him. A fresh, interesting addition, one easy to mold and manipulate into whatever he pleased. So much potential—and to think, batting his eyes and playing nice was all he needed to do to keep such a toy around.

Yes, indeed, it’s his own fault for following such a backwards moral code. Though, that doesn’t mean he can’t work such a thing into his plans, however irritating these small hiccups may be.

And it is with this thought he falls asleep, unaware that down below, someone else is listening to _his_ heartbeat, tuning into his frequency without his realizing it.

**Author's Note:**

> SO. FUNNY STORY.
> 
> I've been planning hazbin fics since I watched the pilot the first time (bc I've seen it many times since then) but I just happened to be reading the wiki today and came across the tidbit where Alastor, if he were to find an orphaned baby, would 100% take it in until it was a little older. 
> 
> and I shared this in a discord server I'm in and ofc was like "Yall. There's got to be a fic abt this. I'm gonna do it. This man is gonna be a dad"
> 
> And after much discussion this happened! (tho it quickly expanded from just Alastor to the whole crew bc.......I have a Mighty Need)
> 
> Prepare for this to get wacky, silly and at times, horrid and gruesome (this DOES take place in Hell, after all)! I hope yall enjoy!
> 
> -ProPulse


End file.
